


God Only Knows (What I'd Be Without You)

by Somekindofflower



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas Music, F/M, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Slow Dancing, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 18:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somekindofflower/pseuds/Somekindofflower
Summary: It's Thanksgiving Day. Lucy is trying to find her something to be thankful for, and Flynn supplies an answer.For the #SaveTimeless Birthday Fanwork Exchange, for MissCrazyWriter321.Prompt: Garcy Dancing Fic





	God Only Knows (What I'd Be Without You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissCrazyWriter321](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/gifts).



> Here's some Thanksgiving/Christmas Garcy fluff for MissCrazyWriter321. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Timeless or any of the songs mentioned.

Lucy sighed as Rufus and Jiya finally filtered out of the living room and she was left blessedly alone. She sat on the couch and took a half-hearted bite of her Thanksgiving leftover sandwich. Having thus fulfilled her obligation to Denise (who had insisted on making the sandwich for her before she’d left, for whatever reason), she plopped it down on the plate and slumped. It had not been a happy holiday.

The strains of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” piped through the farmhouse and she made a face. Jiya was all hyped to get Christmas going, starting with music. She had made Wyatt promise to scout for a tree on his run around the property, too. Lucy didn’t blame her, she was reveling in the win of getting Rufus back. Probably trying to ignore the lingering pain of that temporary loss, too.

Ugh, Lucy hadn’t wanted to go there. But on a day that was meant for family, given that she didn’t have one left, didn’t even have unspoiled memories of them, well, the melancholy was expected. Though usually she could drum up at least a bit of gratefulness for something, it wasn’t happening on this day.

Someone was in the doorway, she could tell. She started to sigh until he spoke up and she realized it was Flynn. Putting up a good front wasn’t necessary for him. His company she could tolerate—who was she kidding—his was the only company she wanted.

“So, Lucy, what are you most thankful for this year?” He said in the overdramatic way that he used when he was attempting to cheer her up. “This run-down heap in the middle of nowhere? You do have your own room here, complete with value-sized spiders. Maybe you’re thankful for all the canned peas the cult left behind. I know how much you love those.”

Her mouth quirked into a crooked smile against her will. “You’re ridiculous,” she said. That had become half-endearment by now and he knew it. 

“You know you like it,” he teased, nudging her with his elbow as he sat down next to her. “You don’t want your sandwich? Not disgusting enough for you?”

“Hahaha. No. I don’t feel like eating. You’re welcome to it if you want it.”

Pursing his lips, he looked at her, calculating. “I’ll take half if you eat half.”

Watching her eat, Flynn told Lucy a story about the one time he and his mother had visited his Texan grandparents for Thanksgiving. He was such a vivid storyteller, describing his culture shock going from Croatia to Texas so hysterically, that she didn’t even notice when she finished the first half of her sandwich and he placed the second one in her hand until she finished.

“Do you want to talk about it or be distracted?” He asked, broaching the subject now that he’d gotten food in her. The transparent way he matter-of-factly took care of her had pulled down her walls and she found herself sharing.

“It was the whole Thanksgiving meal with the team. I couldn’t help but think of doing that growing up. We always did that thing where you go around the table and say what you’re thankful for. Even though we didn’t do it, I remembered it, and I couldn’t think of anything. I mean, Rufus being alive, none of the rest of us being dead, but it shouldn’t be that way, it shouldn’t…how screwed up is this life that no one close to me being—or staying—murdered in the past few months is something to be thankful for?”

Flynn’s eyes were sorrowful as he looked down at her and she felt a hot twist of guilt in her gut.

“And I can’t believe I said that to you, of anyone. I’m so sorry.” Lucy buried her face in her hands as the guilt surged through her.

“Well, that’s enough of that,” he said quietly as he stood. She couldn’t blame him for leaving. This pity party was getting on her own nerves. Still, she braced herself for the hurt of him deserting her, too.

The retreat never came, and after a moment she looked up. Flynn had moved the coffee table and now was standing over her, holding out his hand in invitation. She sat staring at him in confusion until he spoke. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

Her brow wrinkled at him as he looked at her hopefully, but she placed her hand in his despite not knowing why. Next thing she knew, she was hauled up in front of him. 

“Wha-?” 

He took her right hand in his left and lightly placed his right near her waist, looking at her in question. Lucy closed her eyes and smiled as she realized he was asking to dance. She settled into his hold and pulled his hand to rest against her waist. Searching with her left because his shoulder was too uncomfortably far to prop her hand on indefinitely, she finally placed it on his bicep.

“This music probably isn’t helping. Is Jiya trying to depress the crap out of all of us? I thought she was trying to ‘get us in the Christmas mood’.” Flynn asked as Elvis finished crooning “Blue Christmas” and Joni Mitchell sang the opening notes of “River”.

“Probably not. But it matches my mood better than ‘Jingle Bells’ or ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’, so no complaining.”

Flynn huffed. “Alright, but if Wham! comes on, I reserve the right to make her change it.”

She chuckled. “I’ll give you that one.”

They were quiet for a moment and Lucy let herself get lost in the music, the swaying steps, and the comfort of Flynn’s presence. Then the lyrics came to “I made my baby cry” and a tremble went through Flynn’s hands. She pulled back to look—which took some doing with him close and looming over her—to see him clenching his jaw and avoiding her eyes. Empathy for his grief overtook her own. 

Not knowing what else to do, but wanting to give him some comfort, she slipped her left arm around his waist until her face was pressed into his chest. Unsure of whether or not he would be okay with that, she bit her lip, but then he heaved a shuddering sigh and his head dropped as he relaxed and swayed against her for the rest of the song. The tension was gone by the time “God Only Knows” by the Beach Boys started playing.

“How is this a Christmas song?”

“It’s from Love Actually. I’m sure Jiya will make us watch it before Christmas.” Lucy giggled at his disbelief.

The solid warmth of him would be so easy to get lost in, she thought, as he slowly turned them. He grounded her. Not just his physical presence, which she was honestly trying hard not to think about too much at the moment even though her body really wanted her to, but his emotional presence. He always offered so much of himself to her, open ears to listen and understand. What _would_ she be without him? Did he even know how much he anchored her? How much he meant? 

All of a sudden, the thing that Lucy had been searching so hard for was there, rising in her, along with a lump in her throat: gratitude. Tears sprang to her eyes as she leaned back and went on her tiptoes to look at him until he bent down so she could see him better.

“You.”

“Huh?” he cast his eyes over her face, trying to figure out her meaning and she smiled tentatively at him.

“You’re what I’m thankful for—you, this, the most unlikely, surprising…friendship of my life.”

“Ah, Lucy,” his eyes warmed, touched, but then his face dropped. “I don’t des—“

“It’s not about deserving. None of us really ever get what we deserve. We all know that.”

Flynn hummed in resigned agreement and she leaned her cheek against his chest. His hand slid up to caress down her back. Lucy didn’t hold back a slight shiver. It sounded like his heartbeat sped up a little, but it was hard to tell. 

“It’s more like a gift. In the middle of all the awful mess we’ve been shoved into, it’s a gift. You hold me up. I don’t think I’ve thanked you for that before.”

“Hey, no, you hold yourself up. But if I’ve helped at all, well, I’m honored you let me.”

Lucy thought for minute. “I wish…I wish I could help you too, sometimes.”

Flynn froze for a second and Lucy bent her head to hide her face as she felt him zero in on her. 

“Do you not think you help me?” His voice had that tone that said he couldn’t decide if she was crazy or being deliberately ignorant.

The right answer was obviously supposed to be that she knew she did, but she couldn’t give it.

“Lucy, you…” he trailed off. The hesitation in him was palpable. “You really don’t get it?”

It wasn’t clear how close they were inching toward that unspoken territory that they typically avoided until suddenly they were right at the border. It was scary. She’d not asked for fear that she might be wrong, but also fear that he might tell her something she wasn’t not ready for. All of a sudden the fear dissolved, replaced by a need to know.

“What—“ her voice creaked and she cleared her throat. “What do I not get?”

An exasperated chuckle vibrated through him and she felt it down to her toes.

“We both know I’d be a dumpster fire without you.” When she didn’t respond, he continued.

“Uh, let’s see. You saw good in me when no one else did, stopped me from becoming a child killer AND mass murderer, broke me out of prison even though I blamed you for my being there and you were the only one who gave a damn. For that matter you’re still the only one who gives a damn about me. On top of that, you trust me with your secrets and your life. Despite the terrible things I’ve done to you, you sleep in my presence and let me hold you while we dance around our…our grief.” 

Lucy barely paused to think about what he’d really started to say there. She was too busy trying not to cry. The whole admiration thing had been clear from the start, but the things he was saying—they were all her, not her future self, not things she might do—he was thankful for this her.

“Don’t think you need to do anything extra or different in order to help me. You just being there—letting me keep you company and be your friend—it’s more than I ever expected.”

“I don’t do those things for you, though. I do them because _I_ need a friend, because _I_ enjoy your company. It’s not to help you.”

This time, Flynn laughed fully and it filled her with delight. For someone so often dark and brooding, he lit up a room when he smiled and laughed. Even though it was at her expense, making him laugh still felt like a monumental achievement. She craned back to lift her brows at him as he calmed.

“Silly, Lucy. That’s _why_ it helps.”

Gah, his soft smile hit something deep in her heart every time. She knew mentally that he could be scary, she’d seen it often enough, but that made his marshmallow fluff side all the more enticing. Especially because she knew she was the only one who was allowed to see the fullness of it.

She was this close to sliding her hand up to yank him down to her mouth, but she stopped. By then, she knew they both wanted it. But she had a feeling he would take it as her doing him a favor, for lack of a better word. The first time they kissed, it had to be clear that it was because she wanted him. 

Though she _knew_ she would be doing herself more of a favor than him.

Finally, she settled on turning the hand that was in his and lacing their fingers together, hoping it wasn’t too much. His large hand squeezed hers in response and her shoulders released their nervous tension even as a different, delicious tension swirled in her stomach. Unable to resist, she turned to place a tentative kiss over his heart.

Feelings were twirling all through her as she felt his chest tremble and his heartbeat knock hard against her mouth, and she wanted so badly to put words to them. They just wouldn’t come. “Thank you,” she said. As frustratingly insufficient as that phrase was, it was still wholly and completely true. As an afterthought, she added, “Garcia.”

The breath went out of him in a rush. His right hand shot up and gripped the back of her head reflexively and for a split second, she was convinced he was about to kiss the daylights out of her. At the last second, he inhaled sharply and gentled his touch, stroking her hair gently instead. Which felt amazingly sweet, but she couldn’t help a small pout of disappointment that she tried to hide.

“You’re welcome, my Lucy. Anytime.” He whispered against her forehead, the “my” so soft Lucy couldn’t have been 100% sure it was there. She melted. 

“Better?” Flynn asked, pulling back just enough to look down at her face. There was no way she didn’t look dopey and for once she was fine with that. 

Her lips turned up slowly. “Much.”

They stood there, not even swaying anymore, grinning at each other like idiots (idiots in love, her mind supplied unhelpfully), for another moment. Then the music changed. Flynn’s nose crinkled in disgust as Lucy felt her own do the same and they broke apart with an awkward chuckle. 

Flynn tilted his head and she nodded. He took off down the hallway as Lucy followed. 

“Jiya, playing "Last Christmas" means you lose music-choosing privileges!” He bellowed.

As she chuckled, Lucy decided. 

She was going to kiss him by Christmas. Not for him, though obviously she hoped he’d enjoy it. It would be her gift to herself. Ah, _there_ was her Christmas spirit.


End file.
